A Young Woman's Heart

It was still night outside, and the sun showed no sign of rising.

The snowfall was heavier than yesterday, and the streets, which had been deserted overnight, were now covered in snow.

Sanitation workers were already busy shoveling snow, their shovels scraping across the ground with a metallic creak.

"Phew..." Mo Xueyao felt like she had stepped into a refrigerator as soon as she stepped out of the warm room, but probably because the residual warmth of the heating had not yet dissipated, she did not feel very cold at the moment.

The streets were completely deserted, as if we had arrived in a ghost town.

The heavy snowfall reduced visibility to very low levels. Mo Xueyao and Hua Yinyin walked with uneven steps, discovering that the closer they got to the funeral home, the more desolate the road became.

Thinking about it carefully, it makes sense. Most funeral homes are located in the suburbs, and since no one wants to come near them, and there aren't many shops, it's normal for them to appear desolate.

Gradually, Mo Xueyao felt cold. When she set off today, she put two bags on her feet. Although this finally prevented her shoes from getting wet, it made her walk a little unsteady—probably because of insufficient friction.

She could only hold onto Hua Yinyin's shoulder with one hand and walk slowly and carefully, otherwise she would fall flat on her face if she wasn't careful.

The funeral home was not deserted; many people had gathered there. Some had already sent their deceased relatives to be buried earlier, while others were still waiting for other relatives and friends to arrive.

However, the adults arranged for the funeral of my great-grandfather to be held quite early, and there weren't many cars on the street, so they weren't worried about causing traffic jams.

—In fact, even in broad daylight, there are hardly any vehicles or pedestrians on this deserted road.

"You're here? Have you had breakfast?"

"Of course not." Mo Xueyao rolled her eyes at her father. "Aren't you asleep?"

"I didn't sleep." Her father seemed to be in good spirits, though he was covered in the smell of smoke. He raised his other hand, which wasn't holding a cigarette, and handed her a bag. "I bought these at the breakfast shop this morning. They're a few steamed buns. You and Yinyin can share them."

"Oh—actually, I'm not very hungry." Mo Xueyao said this, but still took the steamed bun. "Yinyin, want some steamed buns?"

"Have one... I don't know when lunch will be." Even though she didn't have much of an appetite, Hua Yinyin still ate a large meat bun, and the people gathered around started to get busy, with two cars parked at the very back.

Direct descendants like Mo Xueyao's father helped carry the coffin and placed it in the back of the van.

The back door of the car was open, and a black and white photo of my great-grandfather was placed on it, surrounded by several bunches of yellow and white flowers.

The other vehicle was a pickup truck, and people were rushing to load the wreaths they had received over the past few days onto it.

Although it was busy, there wasn't much noise. Even when someone spoke, they deliberately kept their voice down.

Everything proceeded rapidly in a slightly oppressive atmosphere.

Mo Xueyao and Hua Yinyin didn't know what to do, so they just watched from the sidelines.

Very quickly—maybe in less than fifteen minutes—everything was ready.

The pickup truck was in the lead, followed by the van behind it.

Mo Xueyao's father led the way, holding a large string of paper money in his hand, with three brothers of similar age beside him.

"Dad, are you scattering paper money?"

"Hmm." The father nodded steadily at first, then lowered his voice and chuckled softly, "Look at this, what kind of paper money is this?"

"Ok?"

Mo Xueyao was stunned for a moment before picking up a yellow paper money that had fallen on the ground and looking at it for a few moments.

The Communist Manifesto was prominently printed on it; perhaps it shouldn't be called scattering paper money, but rather throwing leaflets.

"You all can go to the back, no need to rush, we have to walk slowly to get there." Her father patted her head. "Alright, everyone should get going soon."

Hua Yinyin was unusually serious, quietly following the group.

My great-grandfather's daughter, probably my cousin Mo Xueyao, was distributing candles in glass cups.

The candle was red and burned slowly in the snow. Occasionally, a snowflake would fall on the flame, causing it to flicker but not extinguish it.

Holding the candle made Mo Xueyao's palms feel much warmer. She glanced at Hua Yinyin and smiled with her eyes narrowed.

The other person winked playfully, as if wanting to say something witty, but ultimately didn't.

Perhaps it was inappropriate to say those things in this setting.

The procession began to move forward slowly.

People lined up in two long queues, even more orderly than the queues formed by students at Yukong High School when they did their morning exercises.

Mo Xueyao and Hua Yinyin walked side by side, the former holding a candle in her hand and the latter holding it with one hand.

In the wind and snow, if someone's candle went out, Mo Xueyao's aunt would run over and relight it with one of those "ten-thousand-times-use matches".

The streetlights were quite far apart, and the sky was still dark, making the lights shining in this long, winding queue particularly eye-catching.

The pickup truck was playing Soviet songs on a stereo, and without exception, they were all choral versions.

It seems to represent the great power possessed by a people who have been brought together.

Mo Xueyao wasn't particularly interested in any social system. Sometimes she envied foreign systems, not because of the system itself, but because life abroad was 'wonderful'.

However, she had never been to Western countries such as the United States, and all the information she received was just hearsay.

Putting aside her own thoughts, as she walked among the crowd, listening to that song, she was also affected by those emotions.

My great-grandfather must have been filled with pride to dedicate himself to this cause. It was that belief that sustained him, and it was because of that belief that he hoped China, as the successor, could realize their ideals.

Perhaps it is precisely because their goals are too lofty that Western capitalists despise them so much.

In other words, they frantically resist what the enemy fears, and constantly proclaim themselves to be the right side...

Mo Xueyao was somewhat dazed, as if she had grasped something, but in reality, she had grasped nothing at all.

"Bang—pop!" The person at the back of the procession threw firecrackers toward the roadside.

The deafening sound snapped her back to her senses.

"Bang-bang!"

The sound of firecrackers rang out intermittently, and to Mo Xueyao at this moment, it didn't seem like they were making way for wandering ghosts, but rather like they were intimidating the capitalists who were still alive...

"Only when our country truly develops can we proudly say that our system is correct..." she murmured softly.

Hearing this, Hua Yinyin switched the candle to her right hand and gently pinched Yao Yao's cheek: "What are you thinking about, Yao Yao?"

"Huh? Um, it's nothing."

"Ugh, I was daydreaming for ages."

"No... I just suddenly thought of something."

"Where will we go for lunch later?" Hua Yinyin's question was completely unrelated to Mo Xueyao's; her thoughts were always so jumpy...

"Uh...we'll have to see what the adults decide later, right?"

"Ugh, this is troublesome."

"...Are you hungry?"

"No, it's just that people always need something to look forward to. There's nothing to do today, so of course I'm thinking about eating."

"I think we're going back today, right?"

"I think it was around 9:30 tonight?" Hua Yinyin tilted her head and pondered.

Mo Xueyao didn't listen because she was lost in thought again.

The sky remained unchanged, and time seemed to have lost its original meaning at this moment.

After an unknown amount of time, the group finally arrived at their destination.

This is a newly built crematorium.

There were very few people at the entrance, making it seem quite deserted.

In this era when no one wants to be cremated, few people would come here, let alone such a large group.

The music from the former Soviet Union was still playing when Great-Grandpa's coffin was lifted up again, and everyone followed them upstairs...

……

Chapter 148 Sending Off Great-Grandfather (Part 2)

The coffin was first placed in a hall on the second floor.

Or you could say it's a more spacious room.

The wreaths were also carried in and neatly arranged on the side.

Mo Xueyao's uncle was talking to the staff at the entrance.

“We’ve said it before, we don’t need a pastor.”

"Oh, it wasn't written on your reservation form. Did you want a monk to perform the ritual? The master is in another room right now, you'll have to wait a little while..."

“No.” The uncle frowned. “We don’t need any of these. Don’t ask anymore.”

"So, will the ceremony be presided over by one of your own people?"

"Yes," the uncle said impatiently. "We can handle the rest ourselves."

"Okay." The other person stepped aside. "The time is half an hour, but it's fine if it goes a little over, since the rooms aren't full yet."

"Ah."

Mo Xueyao followed the crowd into a spacious room. The walls were lined with wreaths, and in the center was her great-grandfather's coffin. The black and white photo frame she had brought earlier was now temporarily hung on the wall.

In the top left corner hung a national flag and a party flag, which seemed different from the other rooms.

"Please have the deceased's family members stand in the middle, friends stand on the left, and relatives stand on the right."

Mo Xueyao was stunned for a moment, wondering whether she was considered a family member or a relative.

"Come this way." Her father beckoned to her, and Hua Yinyin was about to go over, but her father stopped her.

If my great-grandfather were still alive, he certainly wouldn't want his daughter's granddaughter to be classified as a relative, right?

This actually means that the blood ties have become distant, and the relationship is no longer as close...

Of course, Hua Yinyin wouldn't care. In fact, the children didn't really feel the passing of an elder so many generations above them.

Only when I see his body lying in the coffin do I suddenly remember that I saw him alive during the Lunar New Year.

“I am the Party Secretary of Changchun…” The person standing on the stage was neither a priest nor a monk.